


Spirals

by pickledfingers



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Friends to Lovers, James T. Kirk is a Mess, M/M, Miscommunication, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledfingers/pseuds/pickledfingers
Summary: "Do Vulcans have soulmates?" Jim asks before he can stop himself. The urge to leap before he looks has always been strong with Jim, and he loves the feeling of flying he gets when he doesn't know how far the ground is from his feet."They do," says Spock, "but they are rare."They are both avoiding eye contact now."So, uh," Jim says after an awkward silence, "do you, uh, have a soulmate?"And this is it, this is the ground rushing towards Jim's feet.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 48
Kudos: 806
Collections: Star Trek





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I banged out while working on a larger fic. It's been too long and I missed writing <3  
> Dedicated to my sisters and to Hunter, all of whom I bullied mercilessly into reading this before I posted it.

**Jim**

No one knows exactly how the whole soulmate thing works. There have been theories over the centuries, many a great and respected scientist has called the study of soulmates his or her life's work. 

All people knew is that over your heart, there would be a date. A promise that you would meet your soulmate in your lifetime. 

It wasn't a perfect system, and lord knows that universal forces don't follow the human time system of minutes, seconds. So instead most marks say things like "6034 days", though occasionally there are marks that say things such as"22, 578 heartbeats" or "21 days after Ron dies"

Thankfully soulmarks seem to understand the concept of night and day at least.

Jim's is simple.

"The day you meet him twice."

Which really asks a lot more questions than it answers. When the hell is  _ that _ going to be?

Spock is infuriating, and Jim wishes he could debate him all day. Wishes he could stand here at his own disciplinary hearing and shoot back sharp arguments until he wins, blood in his teeth, and Spock in his arms.

He doesn't understand where the impulse comes from, the need to be close to Spock.

It isn't until he's frozen on Hoth and he sees the smiling face in front of him that it clicks.

_ Oh _ . 

He'd thought his soulmate was going to have a twin. 

Probably he should report this to the Admiralty, he thinks later

'Fleet policy is that you report when and where you meet your soulmate, so they have it on record.

'Fleet policy can fuck itself, he thinks.

After the events of the Narada, Jim just never tried to work up the nerve to take the plunge and tell Spock.

Vulcans apparently have their own version of the soulmate thing, one they were incredibly secretive about. Many a journalist or writer had tried to get them to expose the secret, but Vulcans could stonewall like no other species in the universe.

(Save perhaps for the Fut, a species made out of living quartz)

Even so, Jim assumes that if he was Spock's soulmate, that Spock would have had the courtesy to tell him.

The realization hits him suddenly one night in the shower, the night he is given control of the enterprise.

There is such a thing as an unrequited soulmate bond. No one acknowledged that they happened, because the thought of your soulmate  _ not liking _ you back is too much for the average person to bear.

Jim is not your average person. 

He handled Tarsus IV, didn't he? He can handle this. What's one more cut over a lifetime of them?

(Is what he tells himself when he blinks back tears lying in bed that night)

Jim still has no first officer. Spock has refused to entertain the idea of being number one on the Enterprise, and Jim can't lie to himself that it cuts deeper than he thought. 

Just another cut over a lifetime of them.

But then Spock shows up on the bridge, stoic and stiff, and Jim has to stop himself from grabbing him by his shoulders and kissing him.

At least Spock is here. Maybe Jim can't have him how he wants, but Spock is here, warm beside him as Jim sits in the captain's chair, and Jim thinks that maybe,  _ maybe _ , this could be enough.

(It isn't, but Jim tells himself it is enough that he starts to believe it)

It takes them a month to find an equilibrium, after Spock had first swanned on board after the 11th hour. Thirty days of playing chess.

Thirty days of Jim cursing his own cowardice. Why can't he bring himself to tell Spock?

But somehow they overcome all awkwardness, and Jim settles into his new relationship status of "single but pining immeasurably".

Talking to Spock is fun though, the man is smarter than he has any right to be, and Jim suddenly realizes that the chess matches are his favourite part of the day. The subtle competition, the intelligent conversation, and Spock’s soft eyes staring unreadable across the board.

If this was a porn they would have fucked by now, Jim thinks one day, and then has to take a cold shower to stop the exquisite image of Spock's naked body from giving him a hard-on in time for his morning shift.

He walks into the bridge 15 minutes late, and no one is any the wiser aside from a disapproving look from Uhura.

“I met my soulmate,” Jim says to Bones when he’s four whiskies into the evening one night. He hadn’t meant to drink, but Bones had been looking at him, had pulled up a chair, and Jim knew that he’d picked up on Jim’s recent blues.

Bones looks up, clearly startled by the news. “What? That’s great! When?”

Then he clearly takes a look at Jim's demeanor and deduces the rest. “It’s not great, is it, Jimmy?”

“It’s unrequited.” Jim says into his glass. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Oh Jim.” says Bones, and pulls Jim into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” whispers Jim.

It doesn’t hurt any less, but somehow he feels better that someone knows. 

Somehow it takes a whole three months for the topic to come up.

It's not as if it hasn't been buzzing under Jim's skin this entire time, but thankfully he's been able to stop the urge to pin Spock to the nearest wall and go "so soulmates, thoughts?"

What prompts the discussion is a brand new set of Admiralty policies on soulmates serving on ships together.

Pike and Number One had famously been soulmates. Soulmates weren't allowed to serve together then either, but Pike and Number One had never met until they saw each other on the bridge on the first day. 

They had only told the Admiralty a month later, and by that time, their mission numbers had been so good that the Admiralty had gone against policy and allowed them to keep working together.

The new policy said that it was still discouraged, but that soulmates might be allowed to serve together on a case by case basis.

Jim knows that it's because they don't want another command team to be emotionally compromised, no matter how good the last ones were.

"It's unrequited" he confesses, whispering them into the air like a secret.

It is a secret, he thinks.

He's aware of Spock's eyes on his face, and he tried to school it into something that isn't pained longing. 

"Is your soulmate aware?" Asks Spock, and Jim has to stop himself from flinching. 

Fuck.

"They don't know.' says Jim, trying to avoid using any identifiers. Spock is smart, after all. "They, uh, serve on the ship, and I don't want them to feel like they have to because of my status as captain. It feels wrong."

There. He's given some information, but not enough that Spock can figure out who it is.

There is a sharp intake of break from Spock's side of the table and Jim looks up into Spock's carefully blank face.

"They are on the ship." 

Jim looks at the chessboard and nods in response.

"Do Vulcans have soulmates?" He asks before he can stop himself. The urge to leap before he looks has always been strong with Jim, and he loves the feeling of flying he gets when he doesn't know how far the ground is from his feet.

"They do," says Spock, "but they are rare."

They are both avoiding eye contact now.

"So, uh," Jim says after an awkward silence, "do you, uh, have a soulmate?"

And this is it, this is the ground rushing towards Jim's feet. 

Jim's not sure he's prepared for an answer either way. If Spock doesn't have one, then what's Jim going to say? "Hey, you don't have a soulmate but I do and it's you?"

But the worse prospect is that Spock  _ does _ have a soulmate and it's not Jim. 

Jim doesn't know how he'll survive if Spock answers the affirmative. 

Of course, Spock nods yes, and Jim feels the bottom drop out of his stomach immediately, feels the cold shock wash over his hands. 

God, this was pathetic. He had always known that it was going to roll this way, hadn't he?

But Spock isn't done talking, and Jim forces himself to tune in. He doesn't know if he can handle this, and knows he might have to take a mental health day or two after tonight, but he has to know, has to know something, anything, about Spock's soulmate. 

"I hurt him." Says Spock, and Jim closes his eyes, if only to avoid staring at Spock's conflicted face. "Vulcans are touch telepaths, Captain, and we find out who our soulmates are when we touch them. If we have one at all."

"You hurt him?" Asks Jim, because he's always been a bit of a masochist.

"We fought, the first time we touched." Says Spock with no emotion in his tone, which Jim has noticed he does when emotion is threatening to overwhelm him. 

Jim's face crumples as he thinks back to however many away missions they've had go south, how many away missions where Spock has had to punch a motherfucker out. 

Too many.

And one of those had been his  _ soulmate _ .

"I'm sorry, Spock." He says, voice tight with grief and unsaid confessions. "I wish I could change it."

Spock’s face looks so earnest and painted, it’s all Jim can do to stop himself from gathering the other man into his arms. 

"As do I, captain."

Jim doesn't let himself wonder when the first time is that Spock touched him. Dwelling on things that never happened are going to drive him crazy.

  
  


**Spock**

Soulmates on Vulcan are incredibly rare. They exist, but most Vulcans still get bonded young on the basis that at least you would be alive to meet your soulmate if you met them later in life.

The necessity of having a bond to negate the fires of pon farr was a far more logical reason to bond early than to wait for your soulmate.

Vulcans didn't have the luxury of a countdown, as humans did. The topic was still one which most Vulcans avoided. No one knew how to handle that this young species had been given such a gift.

One that Vulcans would die to have.

Spock has always secretly wished his human genetics had been more dominant. Then he would have someone who would love him.

Instead he has T'Pring, who regards him with poorly veiled conceit. She agreed to the match for his house, and he agreed because there are no other suitors willing to be bound to a half human.

"True Vulcans don't feel emotions," Spock whispers to himself as he stares in the mirror. "True Vulcans don't resent their bondmate."

But Spock cannot rid himself completely of the tiny seed of hope in his chest, that one day he will touch someone and just  _ know _ that that person is his.

Jim Kirk is an enigma. Spock had seen the cadets code inserted into the Kobyashi Maru and he had suddenly had to know the mind behind it. It was fascinating, the code seemed almost alive, and his best attempts to get rid of it from the system had proved near impossible. Spock had spent the better part of an afternoon unravelling the code from around his logically structured algorithm.

It isn't until he wraps his hand around the cadets throat, isn't until he presses Kirk against the console on the bridge in a ruthless moment of blinding, blood-red  _ rage _ that Spock feels the bond slide into place in the back of his mind.

_ Oh. _

Spock has always known that his life would be more complicated than most.

He avoids Jim, once they are back on earth. They had worked well together on the Enterprise, but that doesn't mean they will again. 

Spock knows that humans are born with a countdown of sorts. If cadet Kirk had not been aware during the disciplinary hearing, he likely will be unaware of their status now.

This shame is Spock's to bear - he tried to  _ kill _ his soulmate.

It is unforgivable.

Finally, he is talked into it by his older self.

"I wanted the two of you to learn what you could accomplish  _ together _ ." Says the old man, his hair greying, wrinkles in his face from a lifetime that  _ Spock hasn't lived yet _ .

Spock is conflicted, but cannot deny that the opportunity to know Kirk better is an attractive prospect.

He arrives on the bridge of the enterprise twenty minutes before they launch onto Captain Kirk's maiden voyage, and Kirk looks at him with such naked relief that Spock spends an hour that night meditating to slow his thoughts. 

Spock has always used his work to distract from any emotional upsets. He used his schoolwork to distract from bullies, threw himself into his research when he was new to starfleet and unused to the stares and whispers, updated the starfleet threat algorithm when he was dealing with the sore bruise of T’Pring choosing another.

He’s always enjoyed an intellectual challenge to distract him, take him away from the reality of the moment. He knows, in his heart, that he is using Kirk and the enterprise as a distraction method from the pain of losing Vulcan, but he cannot bring himself to care.

They play chess on their second night in space. It's the only thing they can find in common.

(Other than a fascination with programming languages, and neither one of them wants to touch  _ that _ ants nest after the events of the disciplinary hearing)

Except that it turns out they have a lot in common. They spend hours debating federal policy until Kirk laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. 

"I can't out-logic a Vulcan." Says Kirk. 

Spock inclines his head. The battle had been hard fought though, and Kirk is an excellent opponent.

Three months into their first year as a command team, soulmates is a discussion at their nightly chess match.

"It's unrequited." Jim confesses, staring anywhere except Spock's face.

Spock cocks his head and stares at Jim, trying to read something in Jim's face. The man would have made a good Vulcan, Spock decides, its hard to know what he's thinking.

(He doesn't know precisely when Kirk became Jim, only that it happened and now it's hard to stop.)

"Is your soulmate aware?" He asks delicately. Who would turn this man away, he thinks privately. What person wouldn't fall in love with the beautiful, bright man in front.

It is this point that Spock realizes he's in love. 

"They don't know.' says Jim, and Spock narrows his eyes at Jim's careful use of the gender neutral pronoun. "They, uh, serve on the ship, and I don't want them to feel like they have to because of my status as captain. It feels wrong."

Spock's fingers are clenched around the arms of his chair so hard that he feels the metal begin to deform under his fingertips.

_ They are on the ship _ . 

What person wouldn't fall in love with this man? Spock thinks as he stares at the curve of Jim's nose. 

Then comes the inevitable question about his own soulmate, and Spock wonders for a moment if Jim knows, if Jim is aware of what he is to Spock. 

"I'm sorry, Spock." He says tightly, "I wish I could change it."

Perhaps Jim does know then, and this is his way of letting Spock down gently. Perhaps Jim knows and dislikes having a bond with one such as him. 

The thought burns Spock from the inside, but he carefully blanks his face under his captain’s scrutiny.

Jim has offered his friendship to Spock, and Spock would be a fool not to grasp this olive branch. He will take what his soulmate is willing to offer.

"As do I, captain."


	2. Chapter 2

**Spock**

Spock has always been careful about keeping himself in optimal condition. He runs on odd numbered days, and on even ones he runs through martial arts drills and bodyweight training exercises. Jim doesn't have the same kind of regular schedule, Spock notices. 

(As if Spock doesn't catalogue everything about Jim)

Spock comes in for an hour before alpha shift, 5:00 to 6:00 every day. Alpha shift starts at 7:00, and Spock enjoys how empty the gymnasium is first thing in the morning. 

But sometimes, not every day, just sometimes, Jim is there too. 

Sometimes he kick boxes, sometimes he weight trains, and sometimes he runs too. They usually give each other a passing nod in the gym and then leave each other alone

This morning is different though. 

Jim steps out onto the mats at the same time as Spock does and they look at each other. 

Spock is already prepared with his customary nod when Jim says, "spar with me?" In that happy, hopeful voice, and Spock finds he doesn't have the willpower to refuse him. 

"I am three times stronger than you," he warns, even as he picks up and dons boxing gloves. 

"I trust you." Says Jim, as if thats all there is to it. 

And perhaps that is all there is to it, Spock reflects as he circles Jim carefully.

The gymnasium is empty today and the only sound Spock can hear is the two of them - their bare feet gingerly treading the mats, Jim's breath as it quickens in anticipation, his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

It is a breathless moment of suspenseful excitement. Spock feels his hackles prickle slightly at the predatory look Jim has on his face.

And then Jim strikes, because he's Jim and patience has never been in his playbook.

They weave in and out of each other, dodging, striking, dancing complex footwork together and breaking apart.

It's thrilling how well matched they are. Spock has tight control and brute strength; while Jim is much more tactical about his approach, assessing weaknesses in split seconds and relying heavily on dodging and misdirecting. 

Time passes. Spock doesn't know how long, only that his watch hasn't given him a beep to signal 6:00. Jim is sweating now, his gold skin gleaming in the harsh lights, face flushed, blond hair tossed.

Spock has never wanted anyone more than he has at this moment. 

But Spock has an advantage - Vulcans do not tire as humans do, and he can see the beginnings of tiredness in Jim's movements. Telegraphing moves more than he would, aiming off center. 

Jim is tired, and Spock takes him down.

He sweeps one foot under Jim as the man goes for a roundhouse kick, dodging under Jim's leg as it comes up and knocking Jim on his back. 

Jim goes to jump up, but Spock is already moving, already placing one foot on Jim's chest, and pushing him down. 

"Do you yield?" Asks Spock, his voice hoarse.

Jim's pupils are blown wide as he stares up into Spock's face, and Spock realizes that maybe Jim was not as unaffected as he had been assuming.

"I yield." Says Jim quietly, still staring at Spock with dark eyes and an unreadable expression.

Spock offers his hand to Jim to help him up and-

\- and Jim makes a desperate little noise and grabs Spock's hand, pulling him down onto the mat and kissing him, one hand woven through Spock's silky hair, one hand still gripping Spock's hand tightly, as though terrified that Spock would let go.

Nothing could make Spock let go at this moment. 

Jim feels incredible beneath him, one of Spock's knees between Jim’s legs as they move together. Touching Jim like this is a luxury that Spock never permitted himself to think about. 

Jim kisses as he approaches most things in life, actively and enthusiastically, throwing all caution to the wind and moving as though operating entirely on instinct. 

Spock’s mind is singing, and he can hear Jim’s answering pang of _mine_ though the fledgling bond they share -

And then Jim breaks the kiss and scrambles back, leaving Spock cold and empty, the sting of rejection cutting far deeper than he had ever known.

“Oh god, spock, your _soulmate-_ ” Jim says, voice fast and loose with apparent panic. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

And then Jim flees.

**Jim**

Jim has always prefered evening workouts. At the end of the day after a long shift, there’s nothing that relaxes him better than working off all the frustrations of the day. He’s not enough of a gym rat to go every day, but Jim’s always been a little vain about what he looks like.

Sometimes though - when an away mission goes bad, when the admiralty reminds him that he’s under harsh scrutiny, when he loses a crewman, when he remembers that Spock isn’t _his_ \- Jim finds himself unable to sleep. 

He’s always had insomnia. It comes and goes with stress, like the tide. 

It’s not always a problem. Sometimes when Bones is working the night shift, Jim will crash on his office couch and listen to the sounds of the med bay as people walk around. Med bay never sleeps. 

One morning after a harsh night of tossing and turning and _why couldn’t I have seen that trap sooner, why did Miles have to die_ , Jim finds himself in front of a heavy bag, working through kickboxing drills and movements. 

He’s not certain how he got here, just knows his feet carried him to this place, and if hes here he might as well make use of it. 

Spock enters the gym in loose workout clothes, dead on 5:00 am. 

They nod to each other, and then Spock walks to a small glass booth with a treadmill, ups the gravity, and starts to jog. 

Vulcan’s move with incredible efficiency, movement is instinctual but they train themselves to have total control over the course of their life. Most vulcans move with an almost ethereal grace, the kind of grace which makes Jim wonder if those 20th century fantasy novels had been trying to describe Vulcans instead of Elves. 

The machine slowly increases the speed, and within ten minutes, Spock is at a dead run, moving gracefully and incredibly quickly within the confines of the pod. 

Jim tries to pretend he’s not staring, but Spock keeps drawing his gaze back. 

He’s beautiful. 

It’s the first time Jim winds up at the Gym, but it’s not the last. 

When Jim finds himself awake in the wee hours of the morning from then on, he heads to the heavyweight bags, or to the treadmill. There’s something relaxing in spock’s presence, even if they don’t speak to each other. 

IT amazes Jim sometimes, how close he and Spock have become over just six months. 

True, it was six months in a floating sardine tin, and Jim knew that his life on the Enterprise was one long bottle episode. But it was still such a short amount of time. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, Jim wonders if it’s the mark that makes him feel like this. He can feel an almost-bond at the back of his mind if he concentrates. He doesn’t concentrate too hard, Jim’s not sure he could survive if there’s nothing on the other side. 

Jim is terrified, and he hates it, but he doesn’t know what else to do other than to move forward, and occasionally take his frustrations out on gym equipment. 

He gets to the Gym at the same time as Spock that morning, and both of them have the same idea of what to do. They step on to the mats at the same time, and there’s a moment where all they do is stare at each other.

God he wants Spock. Even the way he moves is driving Jim mad, and Jim blurts, “Spar with me?” before he has the chance to run it through any kind of brain-to-mouth filter, and he hopes, god he _hopes_ , that Spock will take him up on it-

Spock is already reaching for the boxing gloves when he says “I am three times stronger than you.” and that’s not a no, that’s definitely a yes with a little astrix attached.

“I trust you.” and he sees something within Spock relax slightly. 

Sparring with Spock is like sex, but the kind of sex that happens with two long time partners. They both know each other's bodies and minds so well, that they’re anticipating moves before they happen. Jim is having to pull all sorts of feints out just to land a punch on Spock, and he can see Spock working to keep up with Jim’s instinctual movement.

It’s like dancing, but the dance is an old and primal one. He can see the moment in Spock where he starts to let his control slip, see the moment when the fight becomes a little more real to Spock. 

Jim remembers reading _A complete History of Vulcan_ when he was younger, and he remembers that the book mentions, in an offhand kind of way, that once upon a time vulcans were more bloodthirsty before they decided to follow Surak and the ways of logic. 

The book hadn’t gone into much detail, but that had always fascinated Jim.

He can see it in spock now, he thinks. See the logic slide off to reveal something a little dark and old. 

He loves it. 

The fight goes on for a while, and Jim loses track of time. It’s not time for Alpha shift yet is all he knows, the chime hasn’t gone off. He can feel his muscles burning from exhaustion, as he pushes himself. 

Jim’s never been good at calling it quits, and he doesn’t want this to end. This odd sort of violent intimacy. 

Except then he tries a roundhouse kick and Spock kicks his feet out from under him and he’s lying on the floor, damp from exertion, with Spock’s foot firmly holding him in place.

The vulcan’s eyes are wild and a little triumphant, as he says softly, “do you yield?”

“I yield.” answers Kirk, thinking that next time they do this Spock has _got_ to show him what he did so Kirk can counteract it-

Except that Spock is offering Jim his hand and something in Jim snaps at the contact and he’s pulling Spock on top of him and Spock is kissing him with the fierce intensity that Jim had always imagined. It’s like kissing sunshine, and every bit of skin to skin contact is so warm and delicious.

God this is amazing, they could have been doing this from the start if-

If Spock didn’t have a soulmate, Jim’s mind supplies.

 _Fuck_. 

Jim scrambles back, elbows and feet scrabbling for purchase as he realizes what he’s done. 

Spock has a soulmate. Someone else is out there for him, and it’s not Jim. 

Jim gets to his feet hurriedly and mutters a panicked apology, leaving Spock kneeling in the middle of the mat. 

He avoids Spock for the next week. Puts himself on beta shift, stops meeting for chess every evening. 

He doesn’t know what Spock's feeling, but he knows that he doesn’t want to look up and see Spock eyeing him with hate or dislike, or even apathy. Vulcan’s are touch telepaths, maybe Spock picked up that he is Jim’s soulmate. If Spock doesn’t dislike him or feel nothing for him, then the only other option left would be pity, and Jim absolutely cannot cope with that option. 

Bones pulls him aside one evening. “Jim, are you _sure_ he doesn’t want you?”

Jim panics and “What? Haha, who?” is out of his mouth before he can stop the slightly hysterical high pitched laugh. He hasn’t told Bones, _knows_ he hasn’t told Bones, but Bones is looking at him knowingly and Jim’s denials die in his throat.

“I don’t know whats going on, but since you two stopped talking neither one of you’s looked happy.” say’s Bones, clearly unimpressed with this ridiculousness.

Jim feels the odd urge to blush and look away, as if he’s a child. 

“He’s got another soulmate, Bones.” says Jim. “One that’s not me. This way will hurt less for both of us.”

And Bones gives him a pitying look, but Jim lets himself be pulled into a hug anyways.

Jim has never thought of himself as a coward, except that he is where his soulmate is concerned. He’s terrified that he’ll lose his place in Spock’s life, and then what will he have?

All Jim’s achievements, they all feel so hollow when he’s not talking to Spock. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Captain!” says the diplomat in front of him. “We were worried when we heard your federation did not have a mind built to join our hive, but we can see you brought your think-together! We are happy that humans have this gift.”

The Whir are a hive-minded species, and they have made no secret of the face that they do not trust the leaders of the federation because they do not have “open minds”.

The landing party stares, uncomprehending at F’lzzk, the High priestess of Wirh. 

“Sorry, what do you mean by ‘think-together’” says Uhura, confused. 

A slightly panicked notion bubbles into being and rises in the back of Jim’s mind; he thanks whatever deity might exist that it’s just Uhura, Spock, and him on this diplomatic mission. 

This was supposed to be a trade agreement, but the enterprise never could have a routine mission, could they?

Well, the diplomat didn’t seem too adverse to the trade agreement, so perhaps diplomacy would merely cost him his closest secret. He’s not vain enough to think that keeping his secrets should cost the federation life-saving medical technology.

F’lzzk looks at them with some confusion and points at Kirk and Spock. “Those two are connected.” the hive ambassador says simply. “We assumed the captain brought his think-together to show some understanding of the ties our species has.”

Connected, Jim thinks, as the hope takes root in his chest. So maybe it’s not a one way street after all.

(Distantly Jim can’t help but be impressed that they can sense connections so well. He wonders if the federation would have have an easier time if they’d just bought soulmates the first time)

Uhura’s brow furrows, and Jim can see the second she works it out. She stares at Jim and Spock, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and blindsided into silence.

Jim wishes distantly he could have gotten a picture of this. Uhura's face is priceless.

She closes her mouth and shoots Jim a look which says “you two are in so much trouble, just you wait” before turning back to the ambassador and trying to use this new knowledge to her absolute best advantage. 

Spock, Jim notes, doesn’t seem too surprised. He’s too busy staring ahead, avoiding any and all eye contact.

It hits Jim in a  _ flash _ , the way Spock looks at him like he’s something precious, their conversation about soulmates, and the instant spark they had had on the mat in the gym. And Jim remembers, oh so late, that the first skin-to-skin contact he had ever had with Spock had been when he had instigated a fight on the bridge. He hadn’t felt the bond blink into place when they’d touched, but he had been losing oxygen at the time. 

Which meant that Spock knew. Spock knew and hadn’t said anything. 

Jim squares his jaw. This is a conversation best left for the enterprise, he thinks. 

Incredibly, the trade mission goes off without a hitch, and even the admiralty are shocked at how well it pulled together. 

Jim is professional enough to think that maybe it might have been worth it. The Wirh are very advanced when it comes to medicine, and there’s a good chance this agreement could save lives. 

Worth it. Yep. 

Uhura corners him after the mission, pulling him into an alcove. 

“Lieutenant Uhura,” he jokes, trying to make himself feel better, “I know you have feelings for me but you must know now that I’m taken.” Uhura sidesteps this pathetic attempt at flirting and goes straight for his heart.

“Kirk, how the absolute  _ fuck _ have you been keeping this a secret? Don’t you  _ know _ how much trouble you could be in if I told the admiralty?”

Jim swallows. “ _ Not _ that it’s any of your business,” he hisses, and sees her responding unimpressed look, “but until  _ today _ I thought it was unrequited.”

Uhura's face flashes through a lot of emotions very quickly.

“But then… Spock?” she says, looking as confused as he feels. 

“I’ve had some time to reflect in the last six hours,” says Kirk tiredly, “and I think that either he thinks I don’t want him, or that he just... doesn’t want me.” 

It’s probably not the second option, Kirk thinks. Or at least he really hopes it's not the second option. He’s not sure yet if rejection is a better or worse feeling than an unrequited bond, but he hopes he never finds out.

“You’ve gotta talk to him.” she says, finality in her tone. Jim’s heard that tone enough to know not to argue with it. “He wouldn’t talk to me after the mission and I’m his best friend. He’s hurting.”

“I was on my way to find him,” says Jim, gesturing to the corridor he had been in until he’s been yanked into close quarters with Uhura.

“No, he won’t be in his room. He’ll be on the observation deck or in the labs.” she says. “Go get him, or I’ll tell Leonard that you’re being a pussy.”

“When did you get so mean, Uhura,” says Jim, pulling a face. “But also, when did Bones become  _ Leonard _ ?”

She blushes and Jim feels a slow grin come over his face. “So it’s like that?”

“Jim I swear to god you better get a move on or I’ll tell him you’re due for your shots.”

Jim rubs his bicep in memory of the last time Bones had come to update Jim on all his shots. 

“Jim, Ny tells me you’re due for your Treskian Flu booster,” says Bones’ fed-up voice over the comms that evening.

Uhura fights a little dirty, but he’s always liked that about her. 

“Computer, locate Commander Spock.” says Jim into the terminal besides the lift. 

“Commander Spock is unavailable.” replies the computer evenly. 

Spock must really not want to be found, thinks Jim, faltering slightly. 

No. They have to talk, and if not now, when?

Jim knows Spock, knows that the man uses work to deal with any internal crisis he has. But Jim has also seen Spock shut down completely before now, and thinks maybe he might not be in the labs this time. 

On a hunch, he keys in the observation deck.

Theres a smaller room at the back that tends to be used mainly by researchers, or astronomy enthusiasts (and who isn't, on a star ship?), designed with small groups in mind. 

Jim still has a hunch, but mostly, now that hes looking for it, he can feel the delicate bond at the back of his mind breathe into life as he steps forward. 

Hes right, he knows it in his bones. 

The door is locked, and after Jim tries twice to get it to accept his captain’s code, Jim uses some of the less savory coding he knows and overrides whatever Spock's done to the door to get inside. 

By the time he bursts in through the door, Jim’s heart is pounding and his hands are shaking in anticipation. 

Spock is lying on the floor, staring through the ceiling at the unfathomable depths of space above. 

“Captain.” he says tonelessly, without looking over. Jim resists the urge to cringe at Spock’s complete lack of inflection. 

“Spock.” replies Jim. Now that he’s here, what does he say? “I-”

“Why are you here, captain?” says Spock, cutting him off. “I believed -”

Spock stops and looks away, clearly trying to gather his words, same as Jim. “you made it evident that you did not wish to have a relationship with me.”

“What?” Jim says, momentarily surprised. “Of course I want you. I thought it was unrequited. I thought you had another soulmate waiting for you.”

Now it’s Spock’s turn to be surprised. He sits up, and crosses his legs. 

“Only you, Jim.” he says, and Jim shouldn’t be relieved at the emotion evident in Spock's voice, but he  _ is _ , he really is. 

“I-” Jim begins, and then sits across from Spock and lifts his gold shirt. He can see the moment that Spock understands, but he says it out loud anyway. They’ve had too many miscommunications leading to this point. “I didn’t know it was you until I met older-you. Selek. And then when I came back I realized that you hadn’t reacted to me at the hearing, I just assumed that I wasn’t your soulmate.”

“You didn’t know it was through touch?” asks Spock, who seems content to listen.

“Not until you told me. And by that point I had spent so long assuming it was unrequited that I didn’t realize I was your soulmate. I thought…” Jim swallows against the pain and repeats, “I thought there was someone else. Not me.”

Spock lets out a small breath at that. “Only you, Jim.” he repeats, face unreadable and eyes intense. “It’s only ever been you.”

Jim is the first one to move before he realizes he’s doing it. Crawling forward, heartbeat thundering in his ears, and gently placing his hand on Spock's cheek in silent questioning.

The Vulcan leans forward and kisses Jim softly, like a prayer, or a silent plea. It’s not a heated kiss, but it sets Jim's soul on fire. He can feel the smouldering flames behind the embrace, and in the back of his head, the bond flares to life with a warm rush of endorphins. 

“Stay.” Spock murmurs against Jim’s lips, his voice low and slightly hoarse, and it’s going straight to Jim’s cock. “Do not run again.”

“I thought you were - god, I thought you were  _ taken _ ,” gasps Jim, pulling Spock closer and finally, finally, allowing himself to believe that he can have this, that Spock was always his. 

The next kiss is considerably more heated, Spock murmurs something in Vulcan that sounds suspiciously like a swear word and surges forward, pushing Jim to the floor and grinding against him.

Jim groans, and thrusts a little into the hot feeling, his hands are scrabbling for purchase on Spock’s back, trying to pull him impossible closer because it's not enough and he needs  _ more _ . It’s like a damn bursting and Jim isn’t even trying to keep his head above water any more, he just wants to let himself be swept away in this after waiting for  _ so long. _

Spock seems to be trying to help Jim with that, because his hands are suddenly under Jim’s shirt and he’s pulling off the gold top as though he has a personal vendetta, which inspires Jim to do the same because he desperately wants to  _ touch  _ Spock.

Jim grabs one of Spock’s hands and sucks two fingers into his mouth and feels Spock instantly still. He watches Spock’s pupils dilate, mouth open and eyes unfocused. 

“Someone told me Vulcan have sensitive hands,” Jim whispers between breaths, as he leaves trailing kisses on Spock’s palm. He looks up into Spock’s eyes and then has to look away because Spock is staring at him again like he’s something precious and beautiful, but this time there’s a heat behind it, as if Jim wasn’t already hard enough to cut steel.

“Someone was right.” said Spock raggedly, any trace of his Vulcan control utterly gone beneath the onslaught of emotion. 

“Could I get you off, like this?” asks Jim quizzically, running his tongue along one finger pad. 

Spock inhales sharply. “I don't- I do not know. I have not tried.”

Jim hums and sucks the finger back into his mouth, enjoying the way that Spock’s control seems to erode away with every panting breath. The man looks thoroughly debauched; lips swollen, hair messy, and skin flushed. 

“Jim…” whispers Spock, and Jim is about to flip him and show him what sorts of things he can  _ really _ do with his tongue when they hear the sound of faint talking through the door.

Right. They’re still on the observation deck, in a room which, thanks to Jim’s break-in, is no longer locked. 

“My room, 15 minutes?” says Jim, trying to will his heart rate to calm down.

“I have a better idea, captain.” says Spock, standing up, walking over to the door, and locking it. 

Jim doesn’t like the sudden loss of body heat, but he’s definitely in a better angle to enjoy Spock's body as he walks away. The pause seems worth it when Spock turns back to face him and suddenly Jim can see the outline of Spock's straining erection.

“Definitely a good idea,” Jim babbles, already reaching for Spock to pull him closer. “Much better idea than mine-”

And then Spock’s lips are back on his and his hands are  _ everywhere  _ and the bond is singing and he can feel Spock’s arousal and desire through the bond as if it was his own. He doesn’t know whose idea it is , but Jim moves as if to obey a compulsion, unzipping his and Spock’s trousers and pulling them both in hand.

Spock, honest to god, whimpers. Jim stops, smiles, and kisses Spock before moving his hand again, just to see if he’ll make the sound a second time.

Jim wants to  _ taste _ , wants to see what Spock’s skin feels like under his tongue, wants to know what Spock tastes like when he comes. He pushes Spock onto his back and trails kisses along the man’s body, gently licking places that seem interesting or sensitive. 

Spock’s sharp inhale when Jim flicked a nipple gently with his tongue? Music. 

Jim's not a religious man, but listening to Spock’s little broken noises are a damn-near spiritual experience. He grins between sucking kisses, and gently places Spock’s hands in his hair where they thread fingers into Jim’s short, golden locks and immediately tighten and pull. 

Jim’s always loved a bit of pain, something sharp with his pleasure to make it that much richer. He hisses and his hands fingers tighten slightly where he’s holding on to Spock's torso. There’s a slight chance that Spock might have little fingerprint bruises there the next day, but judging by the  _ happy/arousal/MINE _ he can hear at the back of his head, he doesn’t think Spock’s got a problem with that. 

And then he licks a broad, experimental stripe along the underside of Spock’s cock (heh, thinks Jim when he realizes it rhymes), and Spock arches into his touch and any rational thought is chased away by the unstoppable fright train of emotion and sensation that’s ramming through Jim’s brain. He touches himself on instinct, gently pumping himself as he feels the sensation blur in his head. 

He sucks messily and feels, rather than hears, Spock’s corresponding groan, as Jim swallows his cock down (thanking the stars that he trained himself out of a gag reflex during his academy days), and then Spock is coming with a cry, and Jim follows him over when the secondhand sensations he can feel prove too much.

It feels like falling, like flying through a sky full of stars. 

But this time Jim can feel Spock’s skin on his, and he knows where the ground is.

It takes a while for Jim’s brain to come back online. He’s in Spock’s arms, on the floor of an observation room, staring at the universe through the glass. 

“Do you want to tell the admiralty?” says Jim, without thinking. It’s probably one of the worst things he’s ever said during the haze of post coital bliss, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

(well, maybe not the worst thing. But it’s definitely in his top five.)

“Not until it is necessary.” replies Spock quietly. “I was already compromised by you before this, and they took no issue with my performance then.”

“I can be professional.” says Jim, thinking about how they’ve only been flying for 5 months and he’s already had to make tough calls regarding Spock.

“As can I, captain.” says Spock, but he’s smiling as he says it.

They lay there in silence for a little while longer, watching the stars wheel past, and the milky way slashed along the inky black sky. It's an incredible sight. Jim counts himself as lucky every day that this is where he works.

“It’s probably for the best that no one had any spacewalks scheduled for today,” he muses, staring through the open window. Spock’s arms tighten around him in agreement, and Jim can feel through their bond that he is not the only one who is protective of this thing they now share. 

It is a small and new bond, but it burns brightly, feeding on the touches they share now in the afterglow. 


End file.
